Knackered

I really, really want to be a good mammy but the kids are killing me.  I feel like they are determined to put me around the twist.  There are only so many times I can say .............any one of the following things:

• Put your schoolbag away.
• Don't leave your schoolbag at the front door the minute you pass through it because I follow you guys in and never look where I am going and inevitably go on my BLOODY snot.
• Put your shoes away . .. due to above.  
• Turn the TV down.
• TURN THE BLOODY TELLY DOWN!!!!!
• Why do you only EVER get yourself a knife and fork??? 
• Dirty clothes IN the basket.
• No food outside the kitchen.
• How many cups do you need?
• Feed the dog.
• Walk the dog.
• Feed the tortoise.
• And the lizard.
• If you use the last of the loo roll REPLACE it.
• Don't piss on the toilet seat.
• .... or the floor.
• Clear up after you make yet ANOTHER sambo.
• DON'T EAT MY BLOODY ICE POP.
• WHERE IS MY BLOODY ICE POP?????

I feel like the worse mammy in the world because every time a kid crosses my line of vision he reminds me of, well, any of the above.

Shits.

So, there's this boy ....

I came across this on pinterest and adapted it to suit me.

Say what?????

Today no. 3 was invited to see Brave as part of a pal's birthday party.  We decided that we, the four not invited to the party, should go see it too.  I've given no names as I can't remember who said what but this is the conversation that happened in the car:

What does water resistant to 3atm mean?

It means there are three atms.

No, not ATMs!!  My watch!

I dunno, I can't read it my eyes are old.  Or the writing is too small.

The rest of you is old too.

No, I just mean  I'm tired.

I don't understand how time works.

I don't understand Chinese writing.

So, what's an atm?

Blessed are the cake makers. NOT!

Because we're a very sensitive bunch.  Jesus, mention price to one of us and the other one goes off in a huff.  One of us, cake makers, was trying to make a comparison between one of her cakes and a more, er, cheaply made one.  

Jesus, you'd swear she'd told the world she ate kittens, babies and puppies for breakfast.  It got that out of hand.  Name calling and 'pah, you're only a chancer' sort of thing.  All the poor girl was trying to do is get the point of 'cheap cakes aren't great and great cakes aren't cheap'.  

I managed to get myself so wound up by the whole thing I put an egg for my lunch only to remove it from the pot six minutes later to find it was made of rubber.  

Actually 'made of' rubber.  Not 'I boiled it so long it tasted like rubber'.  I boiled the kids toy egg.

Couldn't even have a real egg as there were none.  Only rubber ones.

My kids suck.

Romans???

Religion can be a tricky subject in our house, a very tricky subject.  Himself believes in himself, end of!  Me?  I believe in love and respect.  Be kind to others and love til you can love no more and life should be good.  

The boys though?  Hmmmm. . . . well, they go to a Catholic school and therefore are believers.  For the time being anyway.  

Yesterday we, 'we' being nos. 2, 3, me and Himself, got to talking about Easter and the lads were talking about who had crucified poor Jesus.  Himself said 'Jesus!!!' in that stressed out way he does when the kids start talking Catholic.  I said 'er, who crucified Jesus, erm . . . those . . er, erm, anti-christian people'.  

That would be The Romans!!!

Doh.